Letter #1

Dear unfinished book,

It's been long since I last held you. I thought I'd get through with you. I thought, for once, I had grown up to be responsible enough. I thought I had learned to be better. I thought I'd get through with you.

I'm writing you this letter to let you know I have not forgotten the melancholy and adrenalin we shared.  I have not forgotten my obsession either. Neither have I forgotten the tear drops I left you with and in. Nor the smiles we exchanged. I don't expect you to know the feeling of leaving something behind unfinished. I don't think I can explain that feeling. I don't think you'll understand.

You should know, just last week, I decided I'm going to make friends with poetry. And then I sat there for an hour trying to write a poem, all I could come up with on my notebook were lines and swirls.

You should also know when I say I'm busy, doesn't mean I'm trying to get rid of you. It just means I'm busy. I don't even have enough time to shower twice a day anymore. There's so much going on. Monotony is life now. But I'm writing you this letter anyway. Because you need to know I have not forgotten you, and I never will. And someday, I promise, someday, I will come back.

Dear unfinished book. This letter is left unfinished in your honour.



Love,

A.